


Because I Said So

by DMichelleWrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Married Life, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9080152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Oliver and Felicity are finally able to celebrate a holiday scot-free of disaster, or so they think. Granted, it isn't until New Year's Eve. They enjoy spending this fun night with family and friends. Thea's also happy to throw it in honor of Quentin's newfound sobriety. But what happens when Donna flies in from Vegas with a new beau on her arm, who Felicity absolutely detests?





	

**Author's Note:**

> My last fic of 2016. This year alone, I've written 36 new stories - some one-shots, some multi-chapter. And I plan to continue writing in the new year. However, it felt fitting to close out with a New Year's themed fic and my 40th fic overall. To those who like reading longer pieces, here you go this one is 7k. To those who don't, I apologize this one got away from me. Thanks to all those who read, commented, and left kudos on my stories thus far. I'll be back to writing _The Adventures of Lucky Queen_ soon.

( _Originally from 510 "Who Are You?" via[promo](http://arrowsource.ca/post/155007584909/new-extended-promo-for-5x10-who-are-you)_ )

Early morning light shines on Oliver's face as the sun is just rising for the day. After his typical five mile jog, he settles in for a relaxing moment on the balcony, so as not to wake his sleeping wife. He's learned long before they were married to not wake Felicity without a hot cup of coffee, preferably a nonfat latte with two sugars. He knows the only exception to that rule is kisses, which often leads to lazy sex. However, once they've burned a few calories together in bed, sustenance is a necessity. For now though, Oliver enjoys the simplest of pleasures, such as watching the sky cascade in a sea of vibrant colors. If Oliver believes in any kind of God, he and Mother Nature tend to paint some beautiful pictures quite often. Granted, a few gray winter clouds make his plan go south. Oliver's just about to retreat back to their kitchen until his ears are keen to the shuffle of a slipper.

"I didn't mean to wake you." Oliver apologizes, minor guilt washing over him.

Felicity's arms encircle his waist. Her nose prods his green hoodie, breathing him before she speaks.

"Mm... You didn't." Felicity murmurs against his spine. Her response is muffled by the wall of muscle that is her husband, "Well, I take that back. Technically, you did. Our bed felt cold and empty without you next to me."

"Felicity, honey, you know I usually go for my morning jog. I have to keep my endurance up."

"You are getting on in years, old man." His wife teases playfully, her hands splaying out over his abs.

He reminds, lips tilting up in a soft smile, "I'll be thirty-three this year. That's not even mid-thirties, and I am only four years older than you, Baby."

"Details." Felicity scoffs, her voice husky and laden with sleep. "Coffee?"

"Of course," Her husband obliges, gesturing to their percolating blue Keurig.

Lacing their fingertips before they saunter over to their kitchen island, she quips lovingly, "There's the man I love. See? I knew there was a reason I married you."

"My cooking?" He guesses, eyebrows arching.

Felicity prompts, sandwiching Oliver with her hips and a low cupboard, "Yes, and..?"

"My body?" Oliver continues brazenly, their faces mere centimeters away from one another.

She adds, nuzzling her nose against his, "Yes, and...?"

Oliver's face falls in confusion as he shrugs.

"Oliver Jonas Queen, you are the most incredibly stubborn man I've ever met, but that only shows how passionate you are at just about everything."

Her husband takes initiative by pressing an ardent kiss against Felicity mouth. They smile into a liplock, originally intending it to be chaste. However, their mouths collide in a languid, passionate frenzy. This light morning kiss morphs into a battle for dominance- one Felicity wins effortlessly when her tongue slips in Oliver's mouth. Morning breath be damned because they could care less, although the need for oxygen is too great. After a long beat, the couple finally pulls apart, much to their chagrin, inhaling noisy breaths. Suddenly, Felicity has so much more than breakfast on her mind when she reaches to tug up the hem of husband's favorite green hoodie.

He shudders as her nails rake lightly over his abs, "But what about your coffee?"

Her lips purse, earning him a silent look that reads, "Really? You're asking me this now?"

At this point in their relationship, Oliver may not speak Felicity in terms of technology. However, he's damn good at picking up on her emotional cues.

"What was I thinking?"  Oliver asks rhetorically, cupping Felicity's voluptuous backside to situate her on the sandy brown granite countertop.

His hands ensconces her butt as subsequent wet kisses start on her nude lips, descending from her jaw. Oliver pauses to suck on a spot he knows drives her crazy - the pulse point in between her neck and shoulder. Felicity's head cranes up, smacking against the upper cupboard door.

"Ow!" She hisses, eyes clamping shut as a twinge of pain effectively interrupts their moment.

Oliver massages the back of her head, concern bursting through him, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Felicity nods, though her scrunched face indicates otherwise.

He utters in a very parental manner, enunciating every single syllable of her name, "Felicity."

"We just need to move this rendezvous elsewhere."

Hand tapping against his hip, her husband questions again, "You sure?"

"Mmhm," His wife hums, looping her arms around his neck.

As a means to quell his worry, Felicity plants a kiss against his mouth for the umpteenth time that morning. Her legs slide off the counter, immediately bracketing his hips. Oliver scoops his wife up carefully in his strong arms, carrying her away from their kitchen. Their lips reconnect in an instant.

In between kisses, Oliver thinks, "Bedroom?"

"No time, mister." She denies with a shake of her head, suggesting, "Couch."

"God, I love you." He declares with a broad smile

Felicity giggles at that. Her teeth nip at his earlobe, causing a guttural groan out him before they reach the couch. Their clothes slip off with great haste left in a heap on the white carpeted floor. Nonetheless, Oliver prefers to take his sweet time in this very moment with her, drawing out his wife's pleasure. His fingers thread through the spaghetti strap of her lavender tank top left askew due to their previous ministrations. Cold air grazes her skin as her breast is exposed. Her dusky pink nipple is soft and pliant until his calloused fingertips brush over it. She keens in response, thrusting her hips emptily against his. Oliver's lips simultaneously hone in on her neck like an arrow to one of his targets, and as usual he never misses.

"Oliver, Oliver, honey." Felicity insists, mentioning, "There's no time for that. Thea will be here any minute."

"Baby, please never bring up my little sister before or after sex again." He requests in a groan.

Her eyes narrow at him, "Well, it's true."

They are in definite race against the clock, which leaves little time for foreplay. Felicity's tank top soon meets up with Oliver's black sweats and her Russian nesting doll pajama pants. Swiftly, he gathers his discarded hoodie, using it as a pillow for her head. Even in the hottest of moments, he still thinks of the sweetest ways to make her melt. Her fingertips gingerly venture down between the valley of her breasts, over her taut tummy, seeking her own pleasure before they get to main event. Oliver's hand grasps her wrist before she executes her plan.

"I've got you." Oliver vows in a whisper, his azure eyes staring her down.

Abruptly, his hand sneaks between their bodies, fingertips caressing her inner thighs to tease Felicity briefly. She's _this_ short of smacking him upside the head before his fingertips slide against her increasingly wet cleft. Her pearly white teeth are a subtle contrast to her naturally pink lips, concealing a moan. He swiftly rubs her clit as it stiffens under his touch. Her core pulses hotly when she grows even wetter than before.

" _Oh!_ Right there." Felicity's pleas are a litany in broken gasps, hips undulating against his hand, "Right there. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop."

Just as Felicity's on the edge of a release, Oliver ceases his rapidly moving hand. Her low growl changes in tenor when he thrusts two fingers in her wet, awaiting core. His palm hits her clit perfectly in sync with his thrusts, only serving to spike her impending pleasure even more so. Her chest heaves and sharp breaths fill the room. Her walls deliciously squeeze his fingers as he knows how to find just the right spot, understanding her body as well as his own. A pink flush creeps on her alabaster skin, nearly about to break. Her shudders and moans are silenced just in time by his harsh kiss, resonating in his mouth. Her mitigated blue eyes soon see nothing but darkness as her back arches up off the couch cushions. The haze in Felicity's vision lifts only to find him lazily thrusting his fingers in and out of her, prolonging her pleasure in the midst of her orgasm. Wetness soaks his hand, and he appreciatively sucks on his fingertips. Felicity whimpers at the visual through half-lidded eyes. Giving his wife a moment's respite, his gaze travels over every inch of her. He's generally always enamored by her. But these intimate moments only cement his love for her in more ways than physical. Her body symbolizes sin. It's in the little things the pink flush blanketing her skin, the prick marks from beard burn during the kisses around her lips and neck, the small hickey he leaves reminding her how much he knows her body from the inside out, her slightly swollen lips, and her glistening core awaiting to be filled by him. Contrastly, her blonde waves are splayed out angelically over the arm of their couch along with his hoodie.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Felicity's fingertips explore the expanse of the scars on his torso just as Oliver does the same to her back. Their mutual delicate touches they've mapped out together over a couple years of practice is something that is theirs and solely theirs. It's intimate, loving, and soothing. Regardless of all that they've been through these past six years, moments like these remind both Oliver and Felicity that no matter where they are- Ivy Town, Star City, Vegas, or worldwide they're always home whenever they're with each other. His palm sweeps beside her soft cheek, gently pushing back a curtain of hair. Oliver looks to Felicity, wordlessly asking for her consent. She doesn't nod reverently, which is sometimes the case during quickies. Felicity cradles her legs around his, pulling him in against her. Right when his lips brush against hers, his hips softly press over hers, slowly filling her to the hilt. He remains motionless, deep-seated right inside of her, and it feels amazing. Her walls stretch around him, and God, he feels so big. Yet, he doesn't dare move, not until she's ready. When her walls dully squeeze him, and his erection pulses in her like a spark that reheats the fire they've been building, he moves. Their hips rotate gently against each other at first, not allowing for deep penetration, but desire courses through their veins. Eventually, they adopt a harder and faster staccato rhythm. Skin slaps against skin as the couch squeaks underneath. They fall over the edge together, clinging to one another for dear life. Their heartbeats are erratic. Their torsos sticking together with a sheen of sweat. Oliver collapses on top of Felicity, but she doesn't seem to mind one bit. She loves the feel of his weight over her. It's this wondrous combination of protection and love.

"Felicity." Her husband exclaims, his breath tickling her ear, "That was amazing."

"Mmm... Yeah." She mutters groggily. Her muscles are lethargic, and ready for her to succumb to sleep once again, though her mind has other plans. "I love you."

"I love you too." He replies with a playful shake of his head.

Surprisingly, they have enough time to take a shower together. It remains to only be a shower with no funny business, and they clean the couch before Thea arrives at their new loft. Felicity's smoothing out the hem of her wine red blouse while Oliver buttons his navy blue dress shirt when Thea is rapping at their front door.

"You get it, please." Felicity requests, combing through their coat closet, "I still have to find some shoes."

Oliver peers through the peephole as Thea yells, "Ollie, Felicity, you guys better be dressed!"

Thea prefers if no one asks her ever about what happened when she caught her sister-in-law and brother doing unspeakable activities on his desk about two short weeks ago during their anniversary.

"Nobody's home, Speedy!" Her brother teases, matching Thea's volume to tee.

"Ollie, I know you saw me."

Rather than wait for him to respond, Thea uses a copy of a key Felicity has already given her.

Oliver figures, "If you had a key already, why go through all that back and forth earlier?"

"I wanted to make sure you two were decent." Thea states the obvious, tacking on, "Duh."

"Tomorrow is New Year's Eve." His sister begins.

Her brother notes, "That hasn't escaped my attention."

"Tomorrow is also the day Quentin is released from New Oasis rehab, so I think we should do something to celebrate his accomplishment."

Oliver draws out, not really understanding where she's going with this, "Okay..?"

"Invite him to your New Year's Eve party here at the loft."

"You want me to invite a recently recovered alcoholic to a party where champagne and beer will be served by the bottle?"

"Right, that part sounds insane. But he's doing a really great job, and I'll watch over him. C'mon, Ollie, he's practically a second father to us. I don't want him to be alone during the holidays. Please. Please. Please." Thea demands, her lower lip jutting out.

Ugh, not the pout. Oliver is no match for his baby sister's pout - no matter how old she is. His resolve breaks like porcelain. Oh, this is going to come back to bite him in the ass somehow.

"Fine." Oliver grumbles, checking in. "Felicity, Hon, we okay to add one more to the guest list?"

"Who is it?" She wonders, calling out from their home office.

"Quentin."

"Okay, but the only drink he's going to have on tap is water."

"Great." Thea says, hugging her brother and sister-in-law before she leaves, "Thanks, guys."

Thea's boots clomp against the floor, and the door falls shut with a snick.

Making his way over to Felicity who's zipping up her boots by her desk, Oliver's hand caresses her back, "We really okay with this?"

"As long as Quentin stays on his best behavior, we'll be fine." Felicity answers with an air of confidence. Her fingertips scurry across the keyboard at lightning speed, scouring through her personal e-mails, "Oh, no, no, no. She can't. She wouldn't."

"Hey, hey. What is it? What's wrong?"

Palming her face, Felicity's eyebrows do that little crinkly thing as she tells him, "My mother is flying into Star City tomorrow."

"I know you and your mother have your differences, Felicity." Her husband assures, kneading those knots in her shoulders, "But I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"Please." His wife huffs indignantly, "Keep reading."

He does so and instantly eats his words upon the sentences, "Jason's coming with me. Hope you don't mind, baby girl."

Her mother is a whirlwind of blonde hair, flashy dresses, and perfect makeup. She has as much much sass as she does heart. Oliver and Felicity are more than happy to see her on New Year's Eve, although Quentin may or may not disagree. However, that's just one problem they could easily diffuse amongst family. However, Jason Pratt is a whole other story. After her breakup with Quentin, Donna was single for a few months, getting back on her feet at a bar called Heaven. Life was great for awhile, but in Donna's mind, life became even greater the very second she met Jason. He was a cabana boy at the Grand Hotel- just a block away from where she worked. It isn't the fact that he worked for minimum wage because Donna pays her dues as well

Felicity has an entire list of cons when she and Oliver first met him during a Mother's Day trip to Vegas. First off, Jason is twenty years her junior, so he's old enough to be Felicity's brother. That definitely doesn't sit well with the couple. Secondly, he quit his job and has Donna pay for most of their dates. He's already moved in with her after one month, and is living rent-free. Thirdly, with the way Jason ogles bikini-clad women, it's abundantly clear he doesn't love her at all. More importantly, he doesn't have an ounce of decency to respect Donna. Regardless of all these major red flags when Felicity and Oliver both voice their concerns, Donna claims her new beau quit his pool boy job to become an entrepreneur. He's sweet and managed to sweep Donna off her feet with his charm and supposed good looks. For twenty-eight, Jason is scrawny in comparison to Oliver. His fingers are ashy with cigarette remnants lingering on his skin. His dirty blonde hair locks like they're actually dirty - a mud run of oil and God, knows what across his head. The only he kept up with his fitness and his well-groomed, yet horrendously antiquated porn star-esque mustache. Jason definitely isn't the guy for her, but Donna absolutely refuses to listen to reason. She wants to have fun, and Jason is charming and proper towards her, or so she thinks. He doesn't ogle other women. No, it's more of an innocent passing glance.

The day carries on faster than Felicity would have liked. Engine rumbles of low flying planes can be heard just overhead. Oliver and Felicity are awaiting Donna and unfortunately Jason's arrival. Oliver's hand tethers to Felicity's across the center console. Felicity's gone from angry to irritated to now just disappointed since she first heard the news. Her sullen gaze doesn't dare flit to the sidewalk outside Starling National Airport. She simply stares out at the windshield. Her husband's thumb caresses the gems on her rings, signaling that maybe they should talk.

Felicity begins, berating, "Jason's a douchebag."

"Among other things," Oliver concurs with a soft chuckle.

"Are we really going to allow that... that cocksucker into our home?"

His face scrunches, biting back an amused grin as he asks, "Cocksucker?"

"I find that insult is quite underused, my love." She points out.

"Unfortunately, he's your mother's boyfriend, so we can't just say no."

Felicity plans begrudgingly, "How would you feel, if one of your arrows went missing and wound up in Jason's leg?"

"Trust me, as much I would do anything for you. Baby, we can't just..."

Oliver is interrupted mid-sentence by a telltale shriek, piercing through their conversation. For the early afternoon, Donna is dressed in her typical attire- a tight lavender dress that hugs all her curves and then some, four inch white wedge heeled flip flops, a silver metallic cropped jacket that only emphasizes the pushup bra she's wearing and makeup more suited for evening. But Felicity and Oliver are certainly used to Donna and her sparkle by now. What bothers them more is the spray tanned dude, who looks more like her son than her boyfriend on his phone with no urgency to load their luggage. Oliver and Felicity exit the car before Donna starts knocking on the window as a means to usher them out of the vehicle.

"Baby," Donna squeals, pulling Felicity in a big hug while simultaneously bouncing on her toes, "I'm so glad to see you."

"Me too." Her daughter chokes out, pleading with a clear of her throat, "Mom, Mom, Ma, loosen the grip."

Donna does so, a hand covering her mouth as she smiles from ear to ear, "Sorry, sweetie. Why don't you go say hi to Jason?"

"Hello Jason." Felicity greets dismissively.

Flicking down his sunglasses, Jason responds, "'Sup, Blondie."

"My name is Felicity."

Felicity's practically about to dive headfirst and tackle the son of a bitch. Even the tiniest things about this dude can set her off like dynamite. Upon seeing this visceral reaction, Oliver picks his wife by the waist, her feet dangling as they kick nothing but air. Thankfully, they play it off as a sweet hug from behind when Donna returns from looking at the supposed man of her dreams as if he's her first schoolgirl crush.

"So what's the dealio, we crashing at your guys' crib?" Jason wonders, heading straight for the backseat with no regard for the bags or getting the door for Donna. "Y'all's spot must be redonkolous."

Oliver huffs, rolling his eyes before picking up the luggage, "Sure, I'll get that."

"Let me help you, Hon." Felicity offers, lifting Jason's much lighter luggage.

Oliver tosses Donna's bag in the trunk after Felicity throws in Jason's bag as if it's a pot brownie filled with peanuts. Felicity feels a familiar hand on her back, rubbing the suddenly tense muscles in her lower back. It's no surprise as to what or rather who's caused that. Jason just has a way of instantly getting under her skin, and Donna's lost herself in him. However, melding that much together isn't good. Her mother is forty-eight- not twenty-eight for God's sake. Oliver presses a kiss to the crown of her head as he escorts her to the front of their car.

Opening the door for Felicity, her husband notes, "Milady."

"Why thank you, kind sir." She compliments, adopting a British regal tone.

Felicity's door closes, and Oliver scoots into the driver's seat, putting the key into the ignition.

"Wow! Oliver, you're such a gentleman." Donna admires, wishing Jason had done the same for her.

Long gone are the days of Ollie Queen. Now, he's not just a gentleman. In their domestic life, Oliver is the one who never forgets anniversaries. He brings her roses just because. He's quite the master chef. Thank goodness because Felicity might burn the loft down if she tried. No, he's not perfect. He's an incredibly dorky dad to William, and Felicity can only imagine the progression of dorkiness when they have kids of their own someday soon. Sometimes he spends far too much time at City Hall with Thea or the Arrow Cave He's simply human, and worth it.

Jason questions again, "We heading to your pad to chill then, Queenies?"

"Nope." Oliver answers with a pop on the p, clearly affronted.

His wife informs, "Ya. No. William of course has his own room at our place. But Samantha and Thea are bunking in our spare guest room downstairs together."

"Oh, right." Jason figures, "You've got a kid. You know, your baby mama, is she single?"

"Mm..." Donna chooses to believe, "J's got an older brother that would be great for her."

"Actually, Sam just started seeing one of my employees in the IT department at QI." Felicity fills in.

"Tough." Jason thinks, loudly popping gum in his mouth, "She's a hottie, and she would be..."

With a clear of his throat, Oliver speaks up, "She's also the mother of my child and a great friend to me and my wife, so you'd better watch what you say."

"Or they won't find your body." Felicity swears under her breath.

Donna excuses, "Oh, I'm sure J meant nothing by it. She's a real cutie."

"Not as rockin' as you, D." Jason purrs, pulling her in for a sloppy kiss.

"Oh, really? Control yourselves back there, you two." Oliver reprimands, seeing Donna just seconds away from pawing Jason like two horny teenagers at a football game.

Their kisses are wet, giggly, and growly

"Oh God. No sound effects please." Felicity whines, patting her ear, "Ugh, get it out of my ear. Get it out of my ear."

"Okay, okay. No worries." Donna appeases with a giggle, returning Jason's gum. "We're stopping. We're stopping. And Pooh Bear, remember I told you I booked us a room at the Papp Motel."

"I forgot."

Oliver cuts in, "Yeah, you're not going there. No mother-in-law of mine is staying at a cheap motel. Felicity and I reserved a spot for you at the Starling Fairmont Hotel."

"The honeymoon suite?" Jason guesses, tickling Donna's chin, "This little wildcat..."

"I don't wanna know!" Felicity practically screams, butting in, "We booked you the executive suite. It has a really great view of the Starling Bridge."

"Baby girl, that sounds very sweet, but also very expensive." Her mother worries, "You know I can't afford that."

"No, but we can." Oliver reassures as the park by the sidewalk outside the Starling Fairmont Hotel, "So we've got you covered."

"Hon, I know you're the mayor and Felicity's the CEO of her own bajillion dollar company, but this is a little much."

"You're worth every penny, mama." Felicity promises, kissing her mother's cheek, "Would it make you feel any better to know Oliver and I split the bill between us?"

No, that actually makes her feel worse. But she can't say anything more because Jason's too busy running inside, raring to go as if he's still a college kid on Spring break. Donna can't exactly chase after her beau in those heeled flip flops, but she does manage to walk alongside the bellhop who's placing their bags in the luggage cart. She smiles at him, remembering she forgot to say thank you to her daughter and son-in-law. Unfortunately, their parking space is vacant.

Thea is Moira Queen's daughter through and through. Part of which means she's a master at party planning and decorating. By the time Oliver and Felicity return home, the loft is decorated with tasteful strung up unlit fairy star string lights. However, it isn't too much. A blue and silver banner that says 'Happy New Year' is pinned to a wall by the balcony. Gold and silver 2018 glasses are stacked on the coffee table. On the kitchen counter, Thea departed with a sticky note, stating she'll bring the drinks.

Hours fly by when the Queens fill their time with busy since guests would be arriving by seven. It's New Year's, so rather than serve a huge, gluttonous meal, the couple opts for making various little snacks to munch on throughout the night. Oliver whips William's favorite homemade breaded chicken tenders. None of that boxed crap for his boy. Felicity's pre-made pigs in a blanket are baking in the oven as she precariously lines shrimp along the rim of a massive magarita glass. Lastly, the one thing they could do together the kitchen is assemble their cheesecake pops. Baking and dessert making is Felicity's zone in the kitchen. She pokes a a bedazzled stick into the umptious cheesecake, coats in cool melted chocolate ganache while Oliver zips corn flakes into a bag. Felicity takes Oliver's meat tenderizer, and works her anger out by violently pounding on the cereal bag as if it's Jason's face.

"Um, Baby. I think you got it." Oliver declares, taking the metal culinary instrument out of her death grip, "You wanna sprinkle the cereal on the cake pops before the chocolate hardens?"

She mutters, "Yeah, okay. Sorry I-I... God, that idiot pisses me off so much. He's not right for her."

"I know. I know." Oliver replies gently, wrapping Felicity in an actual tender hug from behind. "It's just one night."

Feeling defeated, Felicity prays, "Let's hope."

In order to quell some of that rage towards Jason, Felicity makes sure one cake pop mysteriously goes missing. Oliver offers his wife a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a spoon to go along with it. Although, Felicity decides that's way too much sugar. However, she wouldn't say no to a back rub and her husband's undying support in her hatred toward the cretin. Oliver does her one better, guiding her movements as they shoot an arrow hurtling towards Jason's picture on a dartboard. They retire back to their master bedroom when sunlight breaks through, adding to the ambiance Oliver sets with some electric candles and soothing lotions. Her hands on her skin are amazing, and her unbidden moans only cement that pleasure. Unfortunately for Oliver, they remind him of other moments they have, well, all over the loft, their bed, counters, the couch, and their large, sturdy desk in their home office. Regretfully, they don't have enough time for a quickie. They still have to shower and get dressed. But Oliver and Felicity time to a cop a feel before they venture to the bathroom.

Their guests would be arriving at a moment. The food, chips, and dip are placed out, ready to be eaten at their kitchen. Biting her patent red lip, Felicity fiddles with the neckline of her light knit hunter green sweater with tasteful cutouts above her décolletage. Oliver adjusts his black tie as well while his wife finds something else to fix, smoothing out the wrinkles in her matching skirt.

"You look beautiful, Felicity." Her husband compliments, his voice dropping to a whisper before he kisses a spot on her ear which is guaranteed to make her all gooey, "Honey, have I mentioned how much I love you in green?"

She relaxes against his firm torso, teasing, "Oh, once or twice."

Felicity's cranes her neck up for a brief kiss before they hear two sets of footsteps - a clack of heels followed by the subtle squeak of a dress shoe. Oliver can practically hear Felicity's thoughts playing right now. "Please don't be my mother. Please don't be my mother," That mantra is running over and over in her head. Thankfully, it's just John and Lyla.

"Hi," Lyla greets, giving both Oliver and Felicity along with a kiss on the cheek.

Dig figures, surveying the space, "Thea did all this one day? Pretty impressive."

A clutch closes right behind him, she mentions, "I may have a little help. Hey, Dig."

Lyla's already on her way to the shrimp platter, leaving her husband to hug the smallest Queen. A hand drifts down to her belly as she dips the shrimp in cocktail sauce, wanting some raisins.

"Raisins with shrimp?" Oliver inquires, slightly disgusted by the odd combo, "New craving?"

"Yep." Dig confirms with a nod, fetching a small raisin box out of her clutch, "Little man loves fruit and seafood apparently."

"Where's Baby Sara?" Thea wonders.

With a mouthful, Lyla responds, "Carly's watching her. Little Miss Sara would rather spend time with her cousin, A.J. than hang out with Mommy and Daddy."

"Thea, I thought you and Quentin were arriving together." Her brother recalls, trying to spot the former SCPD police captain out in the hallway.

"He said his sponsor Scottie would drive him."

They all chat and sip their drinks in lieu of waiting for more guests to pop in. Oliver and Felicity are disgustingly adorable together, sharing little kisses here and there along with one another's food.

"Mom," William drags out, "Stop worrying about my tie please."

"But it's crooked."

"Here." Oliver steps in, kneeling down to his son's level, "I gotcha, Buddy. Nice red tie."

Oliver adjusts the knot carefully, and the tie lays properly on the center of William's torso.

"No offense, Dad. But did we have to dress up for a party at your place?"

"Don't blame me, Will."

"Yep." His Aunt T tacks on, "That was my idea."

"Oh, I'm sure you dad's chicken tenders will make it up to you, Bubba?" Samantha surmises, already eyeing the tray.

Her son chirps, a glint of hope in his blue eyes, "Maybe."

"Well, good." Oliver chuckles, ruffling his son's hair. "They're right over there."

"Awesome!" William cheers, running over to the food table, "Thanks, Dad."

"Seriously, Oliver. What do you put in those chicken tenders? Will's been raving about them all week."

"I can't give away all my secrets. Now can I, Sam?" Damn, his lips are sealed.

"I know. I know." Felicity chimes, pulling Samantha towards her, "It's..."

Her voice drops to a whisper over exchanges of laughter and sips of champagne.

The revv of a Harley motorcycle can cut through the night air eight floors below. Oliver and Felicity traipse out onto their balcony, direction their attention downward. Donna yanks off a black biker helmet adorned with red roses.

"Hey, guys!" She yells at the top of her lungs, waving vigorously, "Isn't this cool?"

"Oh, it's something alright." Oliver utters in a hushed tone, "Who in the Hell gave that dumbass a bike?"

"All that matters to me is that my mother is on it. I can't believe her. All the safety lectures she gave me when I was dating Coop were for nothing." Felicity complains, folding her arms across her chest.

Her husband sputters out a laugh in disbelief, "Cooper, your college boyfriend, actually owned a motorcycle?"

"Well..." She hesitates, correcting, "It was a pretty fast scooter, but still. Something douchey this way comes."

Barf, Felicity can't unsee the fact that Jason grabs his mother's ass. Sure, she lets Oliver do the same when they aren't in public or around Dig, Thea, and William. But when her mother and Jason are all frisky, it's just gross. Her head rests against Oliver's chest, blocking her view from anymore nasty PDA. Suddenly their ears perk up to a car backfire as a sensible powder blue Nissan Pulsar parks right behind Jason's Harley. Quentin exits the car as a kid with a curly blonde afro ensconces Quentin, in a very unwanted bro-hug. Oliver swears the guy looks just like Jon Heder in _Napolen Dynamite_ \- one of Felicity's favorite comedies.

Her husband notes, "Of course."

"What? What? What it is?" Felicity clamors, "Tell me... No, wait! Don't tell me. Maybe it's best I don't know."

Spinning Felicity around, he points out, "Quentin's here."

"Frack, why do bad things always come in pairs?"

Oliver simply shrugs. The couple re-enters their loft. Donna nearly barrels into her daughter and son-in-law, clustering them in a group hug. Jason reeks of a freshly smoked cigarette so much so it actually makes Felicity want to vomit for real.

William sniffs, interjecting, "What's that smell?"

"Um..." His mother pauses, warning, "Something you'll be in big, big trouble for if I ever catch you trying it."

His father continues, "With both of us."

"Okay." William gulps, and has the spitting image of his father's confused face.

Quentin walks with a tin full of cookies in hand.

He greets, "Hey, everybody. Sorry, I didn't know what to bring."

Donna ducks down immediately, pulling Oliver and Felicity aside.

"Felicity Megan Queen." Her mother chastises, using a rare parental tone of voice.

She snipes, "What?"

"Did you invite him?"

"Who? Me?" Felicity reiterates, face scrunching in question, "No, that was all Thea's doing."

"It's true. My sister didn't want Quentin to be alone during New Year's Oliver vouches, grabbing Felicity's hand, "Oh, look the snack table's right over there."

They get the Hell out of Dodge to avoid the heavy sense of awkward shadowing the exes in a dark cloud

"You two are... Argh!" Donna whimpers, panic jolting through her like lightning, "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God."

Jason jokes. His smile is creepy and lascivious. "You called for me, sweet thang."

"Shit, Quentin's walking toward them. He looks so much better than when she saw him last. He shaved off that scuff, which resembled a homeless drug addict. His big brown eyes seem to be crystal clear. He's walking tall and confident rather stumbling drunk off his ass at a bar where Donna worked.

"H-Hi." Donna stutters, a lot louder than intended. "Well, you look just... great."

She punches his arm, much like Felicity does to Oliver when she's super excited about something.

"Ow!" Quentin winces, massaging his arm before it bruises, "Donna, you look... different. Good different."

"Thanks." She giggles, a brush creeping on her cheeks.

"Who's the grandpa, Babe?" Jason inquires, tossing back a swig of his beer.

"This is Quentin." His girlfriend introduces, not really sure how to go about this, "We, uh...Well, see we sort of..."

"We used to be an item," Quentin completes her thought.

"No way, D." Jason chuckles, "I had no idea you were into older dudes. I'm gonna grab another beer. Can you save my seat by the fireplace?"

"Sure thing, Babe." Donna obliges, strolling to the fireplace along with Quentin.

Quentin has so many questions, and they all seem to hit him at once.

"D? You hate being called D 'cause it reminds you of Noah." Quentin recalls, "How old is that kid? Is he even old enough to drink? And how old does he think you are?"

"It's growing on me. I'll have you know he's twenty-eight, and for the record, he thinks I just turned forty." Donna informs through clenched teeth, "So I better not hear another peep out of you about my age."

"Okay. He huffs out a laugh, The conversation takes a completely serious turn, "I never apologized to you for all the shit I put you through when we were together. After I lost my daughter, it felt like I lost everything. I lost my rock, my reason to stay sober, and well... we both know how that turned out."

"And you didn't think I could be your rock or reason to stay sober?" Donna questions, residual anger gutting them both.

"Alcohol addiction can screw up a lot of people's lives." Quentin declares, confessing. "One of the stupidest things I ever did besides hitting that bottle of whiskey again was let someone like you go."

On that note, boy Donna feels as if the fire beside them is much too hot all of a sudden.

"I have to get back to my date." She excuses.

"Okay." He nods solemnly, gripping her arm gently, "But one more thing from me before you go."

His ex huffs, prompting, "Make it quick."

"Are you happy?"

Tears gleam in her eyes as she unnervingly admits, "I'm trying to be."

"i hope you find because it's all I can ever want for you, Donna." He believes, "Even if it's not with me."

Wiping her eyes, Donna bids, "I need to use the powder room."

Donna hides her face when rushes off to the guest bathroom. Felicity seated on Oliver's lap as she, Oliver, William, Samantha, and Thea play Monopoly, rises up to follow after her mother.

"Mom, Mom, Mom," She calls out, wondering, "Hey, what's wrong?"

Her voice breaks, breathing unevenly, "It's nothing, baby girl. I'm fine."

Felicity barges into the bathroom, immediately slamming the door closed.

"What did you say to Donna?" Oliver accuses, hitting him on the arm.

"Again, ow! Why's everybody gotta keep hitting me?" Quentin questions, noting, "I just told her that I wanted her to be happy."

Dig advises, stepping in between the two gents, "It's like I told this guy, if you wanted her to be happy, then you'd be with her, man."

"She's got a boyfriend."

One who's currently too busy looking at Samantha like munchies to a pot smoker. Felicity manages to pry her mother out of the bathroom after a nice long talk. When the hinges creak as the door opens, Oliver fetches Donna a box of tissues and some ice cold water. Jason is oblivious to his surroundings, only drinking, eating, and ogling Samantha. It makes her feel rather uncomfortable. As opposed to spoiling William's fun, she has Oliver sit in between Felicity and her. The night goes on. Donna seems much calmer now, yet emotionally a heart wracked with doubt isn't way she wants to kick off the New Year. Party guests keep themselves entertained with more board games, food, drinks, and music. Despite claiming otherwise, William is officially conked right as the clock strikes eleven out his mother's lap just like when he was a little boy, Luckily, the preteen isn't missing much. And thankfully, he already had his fill of chicken tenders, shrimp, carrot sticks, celery, cookies, and grape cider along with his Aunt Lyla. In actuality, Felicity's desire is to succumb to sleep on Oliver's chest, so she doesn't have to watch that cocksucker make out with her mother right by the fireplace. But damn, it's still forty-five minutes to midnight. A ringing phone interrupts a rousing game of Yahtzee.

"Oh, that's me. It's Chris." Samantha says, gently moving William atop Oliver and Felicity's laps. "I'm just gonna take this outside. Hey, Honey..."

As soon as Samantha steps into the hallway, closing the door behind, Jason sees an opportunity right outside.

"D, I'm gonna go for a smoke." He addresses.

'Kay. Hurry back, love bug." She insists, "And please remember your mints."

"How could I forgot?"

With that said, he rushes out the door. A few minutes pass, and Donna appears rather unsettled.

"You okay, mama?"

She admits, sighing heavily, "What am I thinking? Jason, he's..."

"Not the guy for you." Oliver fills in, "Felicity sees that and so do I."

"My goodness, he's twenty-eight, six months younger than Felicity. How could I have been so stupid?"

"You're not stupid." Her daughter mentions, fingertips tracing up her in a spider-like manner, reminiscent of when she was seven, "You just love being in love, and you always see the best in people.

"Well, I don't know what I..."

Donna's sentiment is unexpectedly interrupted by Jason groaning, "Son of a bitch!"

The party with the exception of a sleeping William gathers outside in the hallway. The find Jason flat on the floor with a bloody nose and Samantha rubbing her knuckles.

"This idiot tried to grope me." Samantha tells them upon their confused looks circulating throughout the group.

Oliver surmises, "And you punched him."

"Well..." She admits, feeling benevolent. "Kicking him in the nuts while I was in four inch heels seemed a little too cruel. Donna, I'm..."

"Don't apologize." Donna says, chucking a tin of mints at his head, "I should don't that a long time ago. Hey, loser. Just in case you didn't get the memo, we're through."

Felicity cheers, fist pumping, "Finally!"

Quentin calls in an old colleague Liza Warner to take the bruised douchebag into custody. With ten minutes remaining to midnight, the party retreats back to the loft to toast Quentin's sobriety in a proper fashion. Everyone raises a glass (Quentin's is filled with water) to the new year and new beginnings.

"Not the guy for you." Quentin bristles.

Donna's reply echoes into the glass, "Not by a long shot."

"And why's that?" He smiles.

"Because I said so." His ex declares adamantly.

In the last few seconds before midnight, everyone watches the ball drop in Times Square. The only kisses shared are ones between happy couples -Oliver and Felicity as well as John and Lyla. Felicity goes to hug her mother, only to find her chatting it up with Quentin. The former flames agree to keep in touch, and maybe have dinner next week. Quentin and Donna are well on their way to becoming friends again for now. As far as romantically, well they'll simply have to wait and see what the future holds.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and Kudos are appreciated.  
> Say hey, and please let me know what you think in the comments.  
> Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [@dmichelleca](https://twitter.com/dmichelleca)


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